


Every King Needs A Queen

by TwistedViolets



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Grace centric, Grace is introduced to everyone, Grace refers to Reggie as her creator, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, The Reginald/Grace love story no one wanted, lots of mothering, slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21699226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedViolets/pseuds/TwistedViolets
Summary: As soon as Grace opened her eyes she knew the world was full of contradictions. She was made to be a mother figure to her creator's children and yet, for some strange reason she isn't his wife.She knows she wasn't designed to love in the romantic sense. It isn’t even in her code to desire such things but it doesn't stop her from imagining her creator in ways she has not been permitted.She tries to keep her mind occupied with her children. The ones that seem more mechanical than she is despite their young age. Their dull and unfeeling eyes make her cold metal heart break.She makes it her life goal to help them come out of their shell.
Relationships: Grace Hargreeves/Reginald Hargreeves
Kudos: 38





	Every King Needs A Queen

**Author's Note:**

> I know I know. I need to stop starting new fics but this one has been eating at me for over a year. Since no one will write it I guess I have to.
> 
> Here is the start to a slowish burn. It will contain fluff, angst, romance, and Grace convincing Reggie to pick up a parenting book which may or may not prevent the apocalypse.
> 
> Please note that tags will update as the fic does.

From the moment Grace opened her eyes she knew the world was full of contradictions. She was given a vast void of knowledge to draw from and yet she moved as if she didn't understand the concept of walking. Her slow unsteady steps were observed by a man.

Her creator in every sense. He observes each and every one of her steps as she gets comfortable with the idea. She is a moving machine build with an endless capacity for love and affection. Her creator, Reginald Hargreeves, takes steps toward her until he's standing in front of her.

"How do you feel?" He asks while letting a hand wander to her face, checking out her facial structure. A human thing she realizes with clarity- the need to make sure she's realistic, humanoid. Her skin is pinched before she responds.

"Good." 

Her own voice sounds sweet pouring out of her mouth. The way the air tickles her voice box is most pleasing. He is satisfied with the answer and drops his hand from her face.

"Why were you created?"

She blinks at him because the reason is so very clear in her mind. "I was build to love." She was in every definition of the word. Children walk the halls above this white room and she is meant for them. Her objective on her internal agenda tells her that she's to 'Be a good mother.'

"You were built with the capacity to love and protect along with the ability to preform an array of household chores...Not to mention adapting is a key feature in your biology. In the broadest sense, you will replace the role of a caretaker but the children will come to know you as their mother." Yes, she knows and she can't wait. Her objective is begging her to complete it.

She places a hand against her creator's cheek and he allows it. She leans on her toes and places a kiss against his lips. It's only when her objective starts flashing that she's pushed away. Reginald wipes his mouth off and gives the first glare she's ever received.

It makes something in her chest contract wrong. "Do not misunderstand," Reginald said before dropping his hand and looking straight into her eyes. "You are the children's mother and that is all. Nothing but an achievement in science built with an indestructible skeleton."

She is his children's mother and yet she isn't his wife. It's another contradiction but she doesn't question it. Her creator's orders are final and she has no right to overrule them.

————————————————————

"Beautiful." The butler said upon setting his eyes on her. She wasn't made to receive compliments so she hadn't had a response planned. The only thing that left her mouth was unfeeling in nature.

'Thank you." It's simple and she wished she had more words to say. Anything that made it seem as if it had love infused in the very syllables uttered but alas she had nothing else at the moment.

"You must excuse my manners, I was quite worried about how your appearance would turn out. You can call me Pogo." Pogo extended his hand and gestures for a handshake. She accepts and places her hand in his only to feel the heat coursing through his soft palms.

She hadn't known the heat of another person yet. Her creator's hand had been so cold against her cheek that she didn't realize how much she wanted heat. The soft palm is so warm that even when she stops the handshake she still feels it on her hand.

She can't wait to feel her warm-blooded children. She imagines their soft hair, their wide eyes while she pats their head, and most of all their soft lips curling in a smile when they learn they have a mother.

She is already prepared for the ups and downs of motherhood. At least her creator had programmed her for the basics she needed and that's enough for now.

————————————————————

The first of her children she meets is Seven. Small, cute, and prone to tantrums. She refuses to eat her oatmeal and that's no good. 

Her creator asks her if she could feed Seven for him. She happily agrees.

Seven looks upon her in great displeasure as she picks up the spoon. 

It's a swift movement. One she has been built to withstand. The child throws her with just the power of her mind. It's as easy as breathing.

Her body doesn't hurt, she has no pain receptors to speak of. She only feels a measly zap of electricity flickering in her veins from her pleasure receptors malfunctioning.

It's nothing to be concerned about.

Her body rearranges itself and the child looks upon her with discomfort. She eats the oatmeal without question and her creator is pleased with the result.

————————————————————

She meets the rest of her children at once, without Seven. She isn't sure why Seven hasn't been included but it would be rude to ask right now. Her children line up in a straight line as if they are soldiers receiving a new order. It's strange for children to do, especially ones as small as they are.

Her parenting manual tells her they are well behaved for their age. 

"Nannies have become a hassle," Her creator said with an air of authority. Not a single peep leaves her children, they are as stiff as dried-up crackers. "You've all out grown them I've come to realize...so I've provided you a more permanent caretaker. This is Grace and she will be your mother."

_Mother_

The word makes her heart flutter. This is why she was made! To be a mom, to give love and care to little heart stealers. She's been waiting for this ever since she opened her eyes.

Her children do not blink nor give any signs that they have even understood him. Her creator doesn't register their silence as a problem.

"Please become familiar with her," He gives them that final order before walking away.

Pogo comes to stand beside her, quiet. He doesn't speak but he looks at the children with a sadden glint like she does. "Let's move to the living room," he tells them and they listen.

They all take a seat on the couch and she takes the opposite one. She wants to hug them, she wants to shower them in affection but they are cold and emotionless children. They seem to be as mechanical as she is.

She searches through her parenting protocols, trying to figure out what she is to do with this situation. It tells her to 'find out what they like to do.' 

"What do you all want to be when you grow up?" She let the words fall from her soft lips as she admired her group of certified heart stealers. Nobody spoke and somehow her internal processor stutters. Her children barely give any indication that they are even listening.

She peers over to Pogo, silently asking for help. He gave a sad smile and leaned forward in the armchair. She didn't know whether this was a sign that she was disliked or if her children were always this quiet.

She had expected messy children with big hearts that she could spoil with love, not lifeless puppets who only move when their strings are pulled. 

This is sad. 

This is heartbreaking.

This makes her metal heart burn although it wasn't designed to.


End file.
